


No One Else Needs to Believe It

by callmejude



Series: Summer Offerings [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Homophobia, Family Drama, Gen, POV Ned Stark, Protective Robb Stark, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: In the chaos caused by Theon Greyjoy's escape, the day is almost over before Ned notices Jon Snow is gone, as well.





	No One Else Needs to Believe It

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand! And also a DESPERATE NEED to avoid any and all of canon for just a liiiiiittle while longer, yanno how it goes.
> 
> I dunno I'd been kicking around a "Ned Discovers Them Missing" oneshot and a bunch of people were mentioning it in the comments of Brave Now so I was like [Jack Skellington voice] I may as well give them what they want.

It’s the guardsman Porther who escorts Robb to the solar. He leads Robb inside the solar without meeting Ned’s eyes, and Ned waves him away.

“Leave us, wait for him outside.”

Porther seems relieved to not have to stay. He must have been one of the guards on duty last night who opted not to join Jory’s search party. He hurries from the room, leaving Ned and his son facing one another alone.

Robb does not look Ned in the eye, either. He has not said more than three words to his father since being ordered under guard once it was clear that Lord Greyjoy had escaped the dungeons.

“Robb,” Ned says firmly, holding out Jon’s letter, “what do you know of this?”

Robb does not look to see what he is holding. “Nothing.”

Scowling, Ned sets down the letter he found in Jon’s bedchamber beside his quills and books and stands from his desk. Theon Greyjoy’s imprisonment had made Robb temperamental and quiet, but Ned has never faced such defiance from his eldest son. Coming around, Ned moves to stand before his son, ducking his head to try and meet Robb’s eyes.

“Robb,” Ned implores, “I need your honesty now more than I ever have. What do you know of your brother leaving?”

His son winces at the question, but shakes his head. Through his teeth, he grumbles, “He left for the Wall.”

“That is what the letter says. And so it’s true?”

Meeting his gaze, Robb’s glare is icy and hard, tears shining. His eldest son more defiant than Ned has ever seen him. He looks so like his mother, like this, rage burns so strongly on his delicate features.

“It is,” Robb tells him tightly. “He saw an opportunity in Theon’s escape. Two trails are harder to follow than one.”

“What care would Jon have for Greyjoy’s escape?” Ned asks, trying to maintain his calm. “Do you know why? They had never been close.” 

Ned’s heart aches in his chest at the thought of Jon fleeing, but he quickly smothers it before it may distract him. He keeps his breathing even, and watches Robb lose the battle with the first few tears that fall. Shaking his head, Robb drags his hand over his eyes. He keeps his mouth a hard line and squares his shoulders.

“Jon has always cared more for fairness than his own wellbeing. Perhaps even Theon’s loss moved him, despite their dislike of one another. Jon suffers injustice the hardest of any of us. You must know that, after all these years, Father.”

It feels scolding, as if Ned is the child. Robb knows something, it’s clear that he does. Ned raises his voice, frustrated. “Robb, enough. I already know of your involvement in Greyjoy’s escape. You must know more about your brother’s, as well. The stableboy said you were the one to ask for mounts last night.”

“Aye,” is all Robb says to that, “I was.”

It stings, truly, to hear such defiance from his eldest son. The naked fury in his child’s voice, the ice in his eyes. It is not the situation that Robb is furious with, nor the king, nor the loss of his closest friend and brother. In this moment, his anger is only for Ned. 

“Robb,” Ned sighs. His head is pounding, and he drops back to lean against his desk. “This is treasonous, what you’ve done. This is —”

“Tell the king, then,” Robb snaps finally, throwing his hands up. “Lock me in the dungeons, now, should you? Wait for King Robert to tell you what to do with me.”

“You will _not_ take such tone with me,” Ned says firmly, standing straight again so abruptly that the heavy oak desk skids as it’s pushed across the floor. “We will discuss what is to become of you, but such insolence is not to be taken lightly. You have _no idea_ what your foolishness will stand to reap in the war in the Iron Islands, with the king, with the _whole of the Seven Kingdoms._ ”

It is too harsh, and the anger evaporates from Robb’s face. Eyes wide, he swallows. The change in him is sudden, and it alarms Ned that Robb looks suddenly as if he may fall back to tears.

“I had to do _something,_ Father.”

Ned feels his shoulders sag. “Greyjoy would not have been lost to you, at the Wall. They are allowed leave, and travel south often for recruiting. You would have seen each other again. But now that you’ve...”

Ned trails off. Robb is shaking his head.

“No, Father, it was not for me. I would not have minded Theon at the Wall. Would have thought it unfair, surely, but I preferred it to what I’d feared during his imprisonment. I didn’t — I didn’t do it for my own selfishness.”

“So then _why,_ Robb?” Ned asks, exasperated. “Why would you cause such an uproar? Surely this is far less safe for Lord Greyjoy than the Wall.”

At that, surprisingly, Robb smiles. An odd sort of laugh bubbles out of him, choked with tears. Ned does not speak. His eldest has not cried in front of him since he was a child, and Ned knows better than to draw attention to such things.

“I know that. I tried — tried to tell him that.”

“So it _was_ Greyjoy, who put you up to this?”

“No, Father,” Robb says calmly, wiping discreetly at his eye. “Theon asked nothing of me. He — he wanted no part of it, at first.”

Confused, Ned motions to the chair in front of his desk for Robb to sit. With the anger drained from him he seems abruptly exhausted. As Robb takes the seat, Ned circles the desk and sits back in his carved oaken chair.

“Then I don’t understand, Robb,” he says, speaking clearly and calmly as he can, harnessing his fury. “If Theon was willing to take the black, and you feared for his safety, why would you push him to escape?”

“I didn’t. I said I didn’t. It was — it was Jon.”

Blinking, Ned looks back down at the letter on his desk, squinting at Jon’s sloped handwriting. 

“I don’t understand,” Ned finally decides. “If Jon only meant to seize the opportunity…”

“That’s not —” Robb starts, but cuts himself off, face turning pink. Ned waits, and Robb mutters finally, “that’s not quite what happened.”

It’s as if realizing the lie has embarrassed him, and his eyes fall to his lap. Ned waits for Robb to elaborate, but when he doesn’t, Ned sighs.

“What is the truth of it then, Robb? You must tell me.”

Robb shakes his head, even as he speaks freely.

“Father, please don’t be angry with Jon. And Theon — he even… he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry. He hadn’t wanted to — to go against you, truly. And nor had Jon, not really, but… they couldn’t bear to be apart.”

For a moment, silence settles between them.

“I don’t understand,” Ned repeats slowly. “Jon and Lord Greyjoy — had they become close? They seemed barely able to stand each other.”

“I’ve no idea why they kept on such a foolish charade,” Robb says in a strange rush of breath, rolling his eyes. “They’re both so bloody stubborn.”

Ned waits for him to explain. Robb wipes his eyes again. His face peculiarly reddens as he struggles to find words, and for a moment, Ned thinks he may try and lie again.

“Father, they — they were lovers.” 

Air leaves the room, and Ned feels his hands go cold. He’d not thought Robb would stoop so low as to humiliate his father into silence to avoid admitting what he knows. Ned’s mouth is a tight line. 

Flustered, he scolds, “Do not slander your brother in such a way.”

“It’s not slander, Father,” Robb swallows. Fear crosses his features in a way that makes the confession seem true. “Jon loved Theon more fiercely than I’d ever seen him love anything.”

“Such claims are outlandish,” Ned insists. “I’ve never witnessed them speak to one another without bickering. Do not attempt to fool me with such —”

“I’d not believed it either, at first,” Robb interrupts. “Not even when… it was Theon who told me first. Told me he’d taken Jon as his own.”

“Theon Greyjoy has no claim over your brother!” Rage flashes through Ned like a blinding flame, and the hand in his hair clenches into a fist and slams against the oaken desk.

The outburst startles Robb into silence, and it only infuriates Ned further. Jon is such a loyal and trusting boy, Ned knows. So guarded of his heart. Wary but eager to be loved. Theon Greyjoy is callous and disreputable, has been since Ned had taken him as a ward as a boy of nine. Always boasting of his heritage that prides itself on the stealing away of other men’s wives. A lad such as him would need only tell Jon a handful of sweet lies before he would sacrifice his own future to save Greyjoy’s.

Robb reads it on his face, says, “It wasn’t like —”

“Do not presume to tell me what men like Theon Greyjoy are like, Robb,” Ned interjects, beating his fist on the desk once more. “I have fought enough of them to know. If what you say is true, then the Night’s Watch is no longer an option for Lord Greyjoy. His life is forfeit. When he is returned to Winterfell I’ll take his head myself.”

Ned stands, but Robb jumps to his feet and stands in front of him.

“Father!”

“Have Porther return you to your chambers now, Robb. You’re dismissed. I’ll have to take this news to the rookery.”

“No!” Robb backs firmly against the door, arms outstretched on either side of him. “I’ll not let you, Father. You misunderstand, please! You — I’d not believed them when they said you would react this way.”

“So Greyjoy knew well enough to force you to secrecy,” Ned shouts. “He knows the sort of man he is just as I do.”

“He knows he lived his life here as a prisoner!” Robb shoots back, eyes like ice. “Knows you had no love for him, not as a son. What possesses you to think this from what I’ve said? Do you truly think so little of Theon to assume he would force Jon against his will?”

Ned will not push his son aside, but he stares him down, fury breathing hot down his neck. “You have not seen the likes of men who hail from his Islands, Robb. They are a hard, savage people.”

“Aye,” Robb hisses, “and men in the south say the same of Northerners, do they not?” It jars Ned enough that he falters, and Robb seizes the hesitation. “To think so little of Theon’s character is to have no faith in my trust of him. You believe I would regard Theon so highly if he ever dared to hurt my brother? You think I would smuggle him away to escape the fate of the Night’s Watch? You believe Jon would go with him?”

“Jon did not —”

“Jon _did,_ Father.”

Robb does not blink, and the rage drains from Ned as suddenly as it had come. As Ned steps back, Robb’s arms drop back to his sides.

“Theon returned Jon’s love, Father. I saw it myself. Theon did not see him as a claim or a conquest. He treasured him.”

The waver in Robb’s voice stings. Heartbroken, Ned looks away. “When did this happen, this change between them? How could I have never noticed such a thing, if what you tell me is true?”

“I’d not known, either, but — not before, anyway,” Robb assures him. “But Jon — he begged me to help Theon escape. He’d… Father, he was miserable.”

Ned’s mind is reeling, struggling to fit shattered thoughts together. Remnants of anger still slip between the jagged pieces of his memories, tainting everything Robb says. Greyjoy and Jon; he cannot command the image to make sense. Drained, he makes his way back to his desk and sits heavily back into his chair.

“Please don’t hate him for this,” Robb says suddenly, tears welling in his eyes again. “He couldn’t bear it if you hated him for this. He’d begged me to lie for him, to say only that he’d ridden to take Greyjoy’s place at the Wall. He’ll never forgive me forsaking his confidence.”

“I do not hate your brother, Robb,” Ned assures softly. He feels nothing but shame now, for the things he’d said. With all of the anger and shock fading away, he cannot find words strong enough to apologize. “I would never hate him for such things.”

“And Theon?” Robb whispers then, a tremor in his voice that feels like a blade between Ned’s ribs. The tears have started finally to fall down Robb’s cheeks, and he can no longer hide the pain in his voice. “Perhaps you will not begrudge Jon, but shall you truly find it in you to hate Theon for this?”

At that, Ned says nothing.

For a moment, neither of them speak. It feels far longer than it is, that they sit in silence. Ned has nothing to say. He grapples with Robb’s confession, rereading Jon’s letter unfolded on his desk in light of this new information.

The letter is long, many passages scratched out and rewritten. Jon had not mentioned, in his scrawlings, why he left so suddenly, but now as Ned reads, understanding settles in him. Perhaps he doesn’t want for it to make sense, but as he thinks on it, Jon’s letter abruptly settles into an uncomfortable understanding. A line that had once stood out to him as strange resonates differently upon Robb’s confession. _Greyjoy would never survive at the Wall_. 

When Ned had first read those words it had seemed odd that Jon know anything of what Greyjoy would or would not survive. He’d thought then it was perhaps Jon’s own perceptions of what a name and standing would be, but even then, the wording had fit strangely. Now, Ned feels foolish for not seeing it. Of course Jon would know what Greyjoy could live through.

“No,” Ned answers at last. “I have no hate for Lord Greyjoy, either.”

Robb gives him a watery smile, and the two of them lapse back into silence. It holds cold against his heart, as the thought does with all his children — that they may grow too quickly in the face of trails they are not yet prepared for. He’d hoped to be there to guide each of his children as they grew older and began to court betrothals, hoped to speak to them each as they discovered their wants, and readied them for the trials of such wants in their world, where duty were also so necessarily at play.

“I swear, I’ve no idea where they’ve gone,” Robb admits, finally breaking the silence.

It shakes Ned back to the matter at hand. “But they are together?”

Robb nods. “I helped the two of them ride north, that’s all. It wasn’t — Jon wasn’t always going to go with him. Not at first. But he couldn’t… he couldn’t bear to stay without Theon.”

Ned slumps into his heavy oak chair, resting his head in his hands. He’d never let himself think on the idea of Jon being lost to him. He always kept him so close, sacrificed all he could to keep him safe and was glad for it. 

When he first read the letter, he’d wondered what had changed in Jon that he can leave the only home he’s ever known. Ned had assumed he was being selfish — still angry from their argument, the disagreement days earlier regarding Lord Greyjoy. He’d thought Jon may simply not know fully what he’d done. Jon is intelligent, but acts often without thinking. Despite not having his name, Jon had just as much Ned’s righteousness as the children born of him and Catelyn, with all the foolhardy recklessness and stubborn will of a young boy.

When Ned lifts his head from his hands, Robb is staring at him. The heartbreak on Robb’s face now is palpable. Ned wants to ask, unsure how to phrase it, but Robb answers for him, anyway, unprompted. 

“Theon was — good to him, I saw it. He loves Jon with all that he has. I couldn’t stand to keep them separated. Not when… Jon deserves to feel that sort of love, doesn’t he, Father?”

The question startles Ned, and he can’t think of a response before Robb adds, “Sending Theon away would have killed Jon, Father. He would have never recovered, you must understand. He suffers so much ridicule here. From — from everyone, really. More and more with each passing year. We are both nearly men and there was nothing for him, here. I always tried to ignore it; Jon was so skilled at hiding how it weighed on him that I let myself believe his act. But it was an act, Father. And alone, without Theon… I did it to save Jon just as much as Theon. I was — I was going to lose them both, regardless. I only wanted for them to at least have each other.”

 _He suffers so much ridicule here._ Jon had mentioned such things when he’d come to Ned’s solar, as well. Ned was not blind to it. He hadn’t wanted to think upon it then, but it is an unavoidable truth, now, with Jon gone. A bastard may see little difference between himself and a hostage of war. Ned wonders, not for the first time, if he had perhaps made the wrong decision in what he’s kept from Jon. 

Robb continues on. “You should have heard him, Father. I’d never heard Jon despair such a way. You know how he usually is: tight-lipped and stoic. But he wept in my arms over losing Greyjoy. He was convinced sending Theon to the Wall would be sending him to his death. I couldn’t assure him anything less. His heart was broken from the imprisonment, when it was still unsure if King Robert would order Theon executed. I hadn’t known of what they had for each other before then, but — but the uncertainty made them both too afraid to hide it from me any longer.”

Ned’s silence seems to only encourage Robb to keep talking.

“When Jon first went down to the dungeons to visit him, it was with me. And I’d… I’d never seen Theon smile like that. Not in all the years I’ve known him.”

The shift to Lord Greyjoy feels pointed, and guilt tugs at Ned’s heart. He does not think Robb will forgive him easily, for what he’s said. “I will not take his life for this, Robb. I spoke with more rage than is right. I… I am sorry. When they are returned to Winterfell, they will not be in danger.”

Robb doesn’t say anything to that, but he nods. The damage, Ned knows, is done. He has never before spoken with such blind ferocity. It will be some time before the hurt leaves Robb’s eyes for his reckless promise. 

It tears at him, to think he may have lost two sons in all of this. Desperate to distract from his own thoughts, Ned starts without thinking, “How —?”

The question ends before he asks it. He does not care to know any further details, but Robb seems to guess the question, regardless, and answers, “Jon told me it started near two years ago.”

Ned frowns. It was not the question he was going to ask, and he did not want to know the answer to it. Robb seems to read it on his face, and drops his gaze to his hands.

“I’m sorry, Father. I only… I only wanted to help them.”

It’s frustrating, how young Robb seems now. The naivety of youth is to Ned only like foolishness. Of course Robb would want to help his brother and closest friend, and would think nothing of keeping peace of the realm. 

“Father, I have known Jon all my life, and Theon near the same. Even I did not suspect what they suffered here until they confessed it to me. The lonesomeness, the mockery; I’d had no idea. But watching them together — without pretending or hiding — it was the first time I became aware of the absence of those feelings in them.” Robb’s voice cracks, and he takes a deep breath before adding, “You would have done the same, had you seen it. You cannot tell me that you wouldn’t.”

And truly, Ned knows Robb is right. Love has never been in line with fealty, but that does not make it mean anything less. Ned always thought that Jon’s Stark blood made him most like himself, but Jon is more Lyanna than Ned had ever taken time to notice. It tightens his heart to hear her last words to him echo now in the back of his mind. 

_“Promise me, Ned.”_

How foolish he must be, to make such a mistake twice in one lifetime. And now Jon has gone on in her footsteps. 

Ned tries again to think on some detail he may have missed, but instead he can only think of Jon in his youngest years, before Theon Greyjoy ever came to Winterfell. Learning to take his first steps in the snow by holding onto Ned’s cloak. Watching as Maester Luwin taught him to read. He had been such a curious, determined child, nearly aggressive in his learning of new things. 

Unbidden, the memory of returning home with young Theon Greyjoy in tow springs to Ned’s mind. Greyjoy was just a frightened, confused child torn away from his mother and his home, and had cried near the whole journey to Winterfell. Ned had felt it then, a struggle in his heart over stealing an innocent child to pay for the crimes of his father. He’d vowed then to raise Greyjoy as best he could. But by the time they arrived in Winterfell, the crying had stopped, replaced instead with a sullen, angry quiet.

And suddenly, Ned remembers, as clear as day, little Jon’s first words upon meeting Theon Greyjoy.

_“Is he like me?”_

And Greyjoy, who had no knowledge of Jon Snow, yet, had only looked up at Ned for an answer as well, so sure, in that moment, that Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, simply kidnapped children from castles all along the Seven Kingdoms.

At the time, Ned had assured them both that they were different, drawing the definitive line between them, but looking back now, Ned only realizes it was just a lie to say at all. In the end they’d only seen otherwise. Perhaps if Ned had given them that freedom from the start, things would be different, now.

“Father?” Robb drags Ned back from his recollecting. His eyes are shining when Ned looks at him again, but the tears have no anger as they had been before.

Ned feels abruptly exhausted. His heart is breaking in his chest, but he cannot bear for his son to see him despair, especially not when he is so heartbroken himself. This day has lasted so long Ned could swear he’s aged ten years since waking. 

With a steadying sigh, he asks, “What is it, Robb?”

“I’m sorry,” Robb admits, his voice soft. It shocks Ned, but before he can respond, Robb wipes his eyes and adds firmly, “I’m sorry for betraying your confidence, truly. I never meant — but I’m not sorry for what I did. I… I saw no other option. If I had, I would not have done it. I swear to you.”

And what could Ned say to such a thing? His son is hardly a boy anymore. Over the years, Robb has grown more like him than Ned had ever imagined. When he stands, Robb’s shoulders tense, but Ned only sweeps him into a hug and kisses the crown of his head.

“It grieves me that your loyalty was divided in such a way, Robb. I had never planned to give you such trial within your own family.”

It’s not the last of the conversation between them, but the relief that sags Robb’s shoulders is a small comfort. 

“Have Porther take you to your chambers now, Robb,” he says, pulling away. “You’re dismissed. We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”

With another shaky smile, Robb leaves, shutting the heavy ironwood door of Ned’s solar behind him. 

The moment he is gone, despair and guilt grind together against Ned’s bones like an ill-fitting cog in a wheel. How did he let it come to this? That Jon would see no other option than to vanish in the night. That he would leave behind the only home he’s ever known, the only family. It had never been enough, not truly. All that Ned had sacrificed for this child, this wayward boy whom he loved with all his heart, whose mother had plunged the country into war so that she might bear him, how had it not been enough? It was enough, surely, that he was fathering Jon in Winterfell, where he should want for nothing. Ned had hoped that Winterfell could contain Jon as much as protect him, but it had only ever been a cage. 

And Jon had always been such a quiet, dutiful boy that Ned failed to realize that as the years passed he’d grown into a man with his own duty, quiet in his suffering. And while he never wanted for food or a bed as many lords’ bastards do, he was still left wanting. The things he pined for, Ned had never thought to give him, assumed only that he found belonging as his other children did. And so Jon instead turned for solace in Theon Greyjoy.

Ned feels a fool over Lord Greyjoy, as well. He’d made such a grand promise in his youth to raise the boy as his own, and he did try, but it was unwise to treat him as his children, he knew. There had been relief when King Robert had ordered to send him to the Wall rather than executed. Ned knows now that even at the distance he kept him, he was still too close to the boy if his own father had ever risen against the throne again.

And so now they’ve both vanished north as fatherless urchins. The distance he thought preserved them turned them from him. Jon had been right in claiming their lives as pawns. Despite the politics of the throne, they had only been children under his charge, and he had only failed them.

He hopes that Jory and the small band of guardsmen that followed him in search of Lord Greyjoy do not return empty-handed. The north is cruel, and will show the two of them far less sympathy than even Winterfell had.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "I Know It's Real" by Raised By Swans


End file.
